Across Three Continents
by quibblequeen
Summary: What, exactly, were Watson’s experiences with women “across three continents?”Inspired by Pompey and Chewing Gum’s “Pillow Talk.” Rated T for adult themes and situations.
1. Part I:The Happy Harlot

Across Three Continents

A/N- This was inspired by Pompey and Chewing Gum's "Pillow Talk." My hearfelt gratitude goes out to the authors, for giving me permission to post this.

I'm feeling a little self-conscious about this since it's so long, so I'm posting it in two parts- hope you people don't mind.:)

Reviews- and quibbles- are always welcome.

**Disclaimer- I own nothing but a blue teddy bear. Oh, and Ratna**.

* * *

Part I

Lucknow, India

1880

She sashayed into the room, her anklets chiming softly. A green veil concealed her hair and framed her face. In her right hand, she carried a lantern.

My fingers tightened on the bedspread. The room seemed to be extremely humid all of a sudden. I was sweating profusely.

Why had I agreed to this?

She halted in front of me, lowered the lantern, and looked across the glass rim at my face, but I did not look back at her.

Something of a smile flitted across her lips. She set down the lantern on a table, closed the doors, and sat opposite me on the bed.

"I give you my word," she said, with a serious face, "I will not take you by force."

I stared at her, unable to believe what I had just heard. Then I saw that the corners of her mouth were twitching.

We both burst into laughter.

"La," she said at length, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I assure you, Sahib, you were quite a spectacle, blushing and squirming like a village damsel on her wedding night."

"I apologise," I said, striving to catch my breath. "I have not had much experience of this sort."

"That much is obvious," she whispered conspiratorially, and we both dissolved into laughter again.

"So," I said, when I could speak once more, "what will happen now?"

"It is your choice, Sahib," she said, batting her eyelashes. "You were the one who paid my price."

"Yes, but not willingly, I must say."

She looked affronted.

"You do not like me then?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort," I hastened to assure her. "I meant that I did not wish to- to engage in those- activities, when I purchased your services tonight."

I could see that she was puzzled.

"Then why buy me at all?"

"It was-" I hesitated. "It was a matter of pride."

"Pride?" Suddenly, she looked horrified. "You do not mean that you- you cannot-"

"No!" I exclaimed, with rather more force than I had intended.

Her expression changed to that of confusion.

"Well," I said, slowly, "my friends in the army expect me to- to have some experience in these matters. I, however, wish to-"

"To remain unspoiled?" she asked, with a laugh.

I flushed.

"Yes, that would be correct."

"Well," she said mischievously, "I cannot force you, as I said. It is your wish, Sahib."

"You do not mind?"

"Oh, not at all," she replied, looking around the room." But we must remain here, if our reputations are to be preserved, and the night is yet long. We must find some means of occupying ourselves."

"Well, then," I said, leaning back on the bed. "Tell me something about yourself. What is your name?"

She seemed surprised at the question.

"They call me Ratna," she said, eventually.

"Is that not your real name?"

"Oh, I have many names," she cried, springing to her feet like a child. "Chandra, Meena, Madhumati, Dilruba, Maya…" She walked around the bed, her anklets chiming at every word. "But I was first called Chutki by my mother, when I was small."

"Your mother? What was she like?"

"Strict," she replied thoughtfully. "So was my father. They used to beat me with a stick if I did not do my chores properly."

"How harsh of them!" I exclaimed.

Ratna laughed. "Oh, no, they were quite kind, all things considered. I know children whose parents flogged them every single day with a cat-o'-nine tails, and barely gave them enough to eat."

"Did you go to school at all?" I asked, wishing to change the gruesome subject.

"School?" She looked at me incredulously. "No, Sahib. School is only for boys. We little girls stayed at home to help our mothers. Sometimes, when our chores were done, we would sneak out to the woods."

"And what did you do there?" I inquired, my curiosity in this unlikely harlot increasing by the minute.

She shrugged. "We would play catch, hide and seek, _koko_, anything we liked."

Her eyes sparkled. "Sometimes, we would even dance. Not like _that,_" here she glanced back in the general direction of the hall with such a comical expression of distaste that I could not help but laugh at her. "Like this!"

And she sprang into a pretty little sequence of pirouettes, claps, and waves of the hand. I stared at her, amazed at the contrast between this little waif and the seductive courtesan I had seen in the dance hall not an hour ago.

"Well?" she asked breathlessly, after two solid minutes of this performance.

"That was quite something," I said truthfully.

She beamed at my praise.

"I always loved dancing," she said, seating herself on the opposite edge of the bed.

"One day, when I was seven, I actually sneaked out from home to see a _mujra._"

"What was it like?"

Her eyes took on a dreamy look.

"Looking back, I suppose it was quite ordinary," she said, "but it was nothing short of wonderful to me then. The lady who performed it wore a lovely embroidered skirt of red silk, with a golden blouse. She had gold bangles on her wrists, and more jewellery than I had ever seen on a bride. And when she danced, I felt as though I was on a cloud in the sky."

"You must have been very happy," I said softly.

"For a few minutes, I was." Her brow furrowed. "But then, some old woman came in and demanded to know what I was doing there."

"What happened then?"

"I told her I had come out to see the dancing. She asked me if my parents knew. I said they did not. Suddenly, she grinned wickedly."

" 'Do you like dancing, _beti_?'

" 'Yes,'I said, timidly.

" 'Would you like to be a dancer?'

" 'Oh, yes,' I cried.

" 'Then come along with me, and I'll make you one in no time.'

" 'But what about my parents?' I asked.

" 'Oh, they'll hardly miss you,' said she. 'Come along now, there's no time for trifles.'"

"And so along I went with her, hardly believing my good luck. I was entrusted to Meena Bibi, who owns this house. I was introduced to a lot of children my age. I was given good clothes and plenty of good food, with barely any chores to do. And best of all, I was taught not only dancing, but to read and write Urdu, to speak English, and to sew." She laughed. "Of course, I would be a bit older before I realized I was not going to be just a dancer."

"Do you regret it at all?" I asked, taken aback at the casual way she recounted her past.

"What- coming here?" She smiled. "No, not at all. I'd rather dance every night than get married and be a slave to my husband and in-laws, or even-" she shuddered "become a widow."

My shock at this pronunciation must have showed on my face, for presently she said, "Sahib, what about your family?"

"I have my parents and my brother."

"What about your aunts, your uncles, and grandparents?" she inquired.

"They live in the country. I hardly ever see them."

"How sad," she said quietly.

"No, it is often so in our country."

"Oh." Then, suddenly, "Do you have a sweetheart, Sahib?"

I found myself blushing in spite of myself. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Is she pretty?" Her eyes were teasing now.

"Not particularly, but to me, she is always beautiful."

"_Hai, mainu marjava_! How romantic," giggled Ratna. "Will you marry her when you go back to England?"

"Well, maybe, if she won't mind." I said flippantly.

"Do you know, Sahib," she said dreamily, as she unfastened her veil, "it has always been a dream of mine to get married. Not to _stay_ married, you know- that would be too troublesome. But just to be dressed up in a red sari, with henna on my hands, and music playing in the background, and then to have someone tie the wedding thread on my neck while everyone throws flowers at us- now that would be wonderful."

"Marriage is not such a simple matter, you silly girl," I laughed, albeit a little uneasily, at this quaint treatment of so sacred a subject.

"Probably not," she agreed, undoing her hair, "but I'd like it if it were."

**Liked it? Hated it? Please review!And stay tuned for Part Two!**


	2. Part II:Wedding Night Rehearsal

Across Three Continents

A/N- Thanks to KCS, Pompey, Chewing Gum, and Kadigan for reviewing!

And here goes part II- I hope it works for you.

Disclaimer- I own nothing but a blue teddy bear. And Ratna.

Part II

We were both silent for a while, as I watched her put away her bangles, necklaces, earrings, and other jewellery.

"So tell me, Sahib," she said, turning to me, as she closed the last drawer, "do you have a dream of your own?"

I pondered this question for a while.

'When I was younger, I wanted to be a great explorer," I said slowly. "I wanted to travel round the world, see Egypt, shoot lions in Algeria, and climb Mount Everest…" I smiled ruefully. "Of course, my parents would have none of it. They wanted me to be a doctor."

"And what did you do then, Sahib?" she queried, her eyes wide as she resumed her perch "Did you run away from home, too?"

I chuckled. "No, of course not. I studied medicine, and after I had graduated, I joined the army."

"So that is why you became a soldier," she said, her brown eyes alight with understanding. "So that you could travel the world."

I nodded.

"I wanted action, adventure and the thrill of the hunt." I sighed. "It sounds very foolish and grotesque now, but back then, I would give anything to be able to shoot a savage."

"And now?" she asked, after a while.

"Oh, I've seen enough of dead men and strange lands." I mopped my brow with my handkerchief -the heat really was oppressive. "I'd rather go back to England, and live on a sheep farm to the end of my days, than shoot anyone, least of all a savage."

Her quick feminine eye had noticed my movement.

"It is very warm tonight," she said. "Shall I fetch you a glass of water?"

"Yes, please." I said, gratefully.

She poured me some water from a carafe on her table.

"Thank you." I sipped the liquid, relishing its coolness.

There was a pause. Then-

"Sahib?"

"What is it, Ratna?"

"Well, Sahib," she said, her eyes dancing, "if you insist on being unprepared, whatever will you do on your wedding night?"

"I-I suppose I shall manage," I said, as carelessly as I could.

"Well," she said idly, "I could teach you, if you wished. Not everything, of course," she added quickly, as I nearly choked on the water, "just- what is the word-ah, yes, _basics._ A few basics."

I hesitated. I had been brought up to view the act of love as something that should remain between a man and his wife. Even after two years in the military, where a man was considered as such only when he had lost his virginity, I had clung steadfastly to my beliefs.

Was this little waif's proposal against the principles I had honoured for so long?

"You need not fear, Sahib," Ratna said, as though she had been reading my thoughts. "I assure you that whatever I do, your future wife will not have cause to see you as anything but an honourable gentleman."

What could it hurt to know, after all?

I sighed.

"Show me," I said, sinking down on the bed, among the pillows.

She raised an eyebrow, taking in my appearance.

"I suggest that you take off your coat and outerwear first, Sahib. They seem very uncomfortable to me."

"But you are-"I stammered.

"In the circumstances," Ratna laughed, "I hardly think that the usual rules of modesty apply." Seeing my doubtful expression, she sighed exasperatedly."Sahib,this is India, not England. There is no shortage of bare-chested men here."

I knew she was right, but I still had some qualms at the thought of undressing in front of a woman. Still, it was sweltering, and I had no choice but to take her advice.

"There," she said, once I had finished. "How do you feel now, Sahib?"

"Much better," I said, enjoying the feel of the cool night breeze against my bare torso.

Ratna beamed.

"Now, on your wedding night," she began, as though she was merely commencing a cookery demonstration for young ladies, "you will be sitting on the bed, dressed in your nightclothes. Your bride will enter the room- s_o_."

She scurried to the door, drew her veil over her face, and proceeded to walk back towards the bed very slowly and solemnly, like a mourner in a funeral procession .

"Then," Ratna continued, as I strived to conceal my amusement, "she will stand in front of you- _so_- and wait for you to remove her veil."

"In our country, brides do not wear veils on their wedding night."

"Oh." Ratna lifted her veil, looking rather flustered. "Then what do they wear?"

This question threw me a little.

"A nightgown, I believe." I flushed. "Most of the time, at least."

Ratna considered this for a moment.

"Very well, then," she said, her voice re-assuming the tone of an instructor. "Your bride will stroll casually across to the mirror- _so_. She will undo her hair, and perhaps comb it. She will do this for some time, so you must be patient."

"And?" I prompted, rather apprehensively.

"Then, she will return to the bed slowly, _so-_ and sit down beside you on the bed."

She sat on the edge of the bed very stiffly.

For what seemed like hours, there was silence. Nothing in the room stirred.

"Well?" I ejaculated impatiently.

"That is all she will do."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "How has the human race evolved all this time, then?"

Ratna laughed.

"I did not say that nothing would happen. The rest is up to you."

"The rest?"

My instructor sighed.

Apparently, I had a lot to learn.

* * *

The clock in the hall struck one.

"It is late," said Ratna, as she rose, adjusting her veil, and moved towards the window. "Are you not tired, Sahib?"

"Indeed I am, very much," I said frankly, for my head was spinning with all the information that Ratna had imparted to me in the course of an hour. Who knew that procreation involved so much effort? I felt a newfound respect for animals and married men.

"Then I will turn out the lamp."

"Thank you, Ratna."

"For what?" she asked, surprised.

"For- teaching me."

She smiled knowingly, and then returned to the bed, where she picked out a couple of pillows.

"What are you doing, Ratna?"

"Going to sleep," she answered.

"Where?"

"On the floor."

"No, indeed," I said, indignantly, my sense of chivalry roused. "You will sleep on the bed."

"Then where will you sleep?" she asked, curiously.

I smiled.

"Did you not just say that the usual rules of modesty do not apply to us?"

* * *

There is nothing much left to say, save that I returned to England some months later, sans my health, wealth, and "sweetheart"- for she had married a wealthy merchant in my absence, and was now expecting a child.(Evidently, I thought dryly,_she _had had no issues with the physical aspect of matrimony). For a time, I remained in miserable straits- but not too long, as readers of "The Sign of Four" and "A Study in Scarlet" will know.

Happily, my wedding night, when it eventually came to pass, did not turn out to be quite as Ratna had envisioned- indeed, afterwards I had cause to reflect, with some amusement, that English girls were much more proactive than Indian ones.

I do not know what became of Ratna after we parted. I have no memento of her- no curl of her raven hair, no silver anklet gathering dust in my attic.

But even now, when I awake in the mornings to find my loving wife sleeping at my side, I cannot help but feel a stab of pity for the little Indian wench, who would never know what it truly felt like to be married.

**What do you think? Please review!**


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